


Biased Viewing Habits

by Biscuit Lion (cookiethelion)



Category: British Comedy RPF, Taskmaster (UK TV) RPF
Genre: 5 Times, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-12 19:55:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17473976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cookiethelion/pseuds/Biscuit%20Lion
Summary: Five times Josh had something to say about James’ performance in Taskmaster, and the one time he didn’t.





	Biased Viewing Habits

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't watched series 7 (specifically episodes 1,2, 4-8), I would recommend watching it first before reading this fic.

****

**The Mean Bean**

James received a call from Josh the moment Taskmaster cut to the third advert break.

“Unbelievable,” said Josh.

James frowned. “What?” he said.

“There’re 406 baked beans in a can.”

James rolled his eyes as he leaned over the sofa to reach the remote. “Were you even watching the task? What could I do with that information?” He pinched his phone between his cheek and shoulder as his fingertips brushed the remote, and he managed to push it onto the seat.

He muted the TV in time to hear Josh say, “—it took me five sodding minutes to count everything.”

“Hold on, Phil guessed there were only 100 beans. Did you have a go at him as well?”

“I will in a bit, but I know that Phil hasn’t watched every series. You have. You’re the superfan.”

James blushed in response. If they’d been having this conversation in person, he reckoned his cheeks would’ve been even rosier. He _had_ watched each series twice, except for series one and Champion of Champions—for some reason, he kept binging both series over and over, until he was sure he could remember which task aired in which episode.

“James?” he heard Josh ask.

On the TV, James could see Alex holding up four fingers to the camera; and because he figured that Josh wouldn’t want to miss the final part, he decided to wrap up their conversation.

“Yeah, well, I’m such a ‘superfan’ that I counted my own baked beans,” he said, “and I counted … er … 300 and, er, 80—no, 90—92—98 beans, so one of us has got the wrong number.”

He grinned as he heard Josh laugh; and then he swore he heard Josh playfully say “idiot” before the line went dead. He put his phone down beside him, and turned on the volume once again.

 

****

**My Eyes Are Circles**

James had finished watching himself failing to hula hoop while riding a bike when his phone rang. Josh was calling, and James could brush aside the worry that he had abandoned the series after the opening episode. Besides, there was something admirable about the fact that Josh waited until Wednesday to watch the next episode. If the option had been available for series one, James wouldn’t have been able to wait.

James answered, but all he could hear was Josh laughing down the other end. Well, at least his effort satisfied one person.

“You’re going to miss the rest of the episode,” James said, once Josh calmed down about a minute later.

“It’s on pause,” said Josh. His voice was still shaking, and James could picture him wiping tears away from his eyes. “Oh, _mate_ , what were you thinking?”

James shook his head.

“I don’t want to give any spoilers away,” he said, trying to sound as confident as he could, “but I explain what I was thinking, and Greg loves it so much he gives me five points.”

Josh snorted disbelievingly, and seconds later, James heard the TV blaring from the phone. He managed to hear himself say _“my eyes are circles”_ when Josh burst into a fresh howl of laughter, and paused the TV again.

“My eyes are circles—” Josh repeated. James knew he was genuinely enjoying himself from the way his voice had gone up a pitch; and instinctively, he countered with—

“Alright, down an octave.”

He winced during the short silence that followed. OK, so the chances of Josh remembering a single line from within six episodes of comedy gold was unlikely, even if said line was also the title of one—but Josh was also the last person he wanted to pick apart his biased viewing habits.

“Sorry.” Josh’s voice was back to normal, and there was no indication he’d got the reference.

“Anyway, how come you’re watching the show?” said James, out of curiosity and also his eagerness to change the subject. “I thought you don’t like watching comedy shows anymore.” The line went silent for a moment, and James was about to check if their call was still connected when Josh answered him.

“This is my favourite line-up,” said Josh. “Of course I’m going to watch it.”

“You know you don’t have to wait ‘til Wednesday, right? You _can_ watch the next episode ahead of its broadcast.”

“Yeah, but it’s not fun if I watch it and I know you’re not.” Then, after a pause, Josh added, “You are going to watch it each Wednesday as well, right?”

“Of course. I want to see how they’ve edited it all down.” It didn’t matter that James knew he had a gig next Wednesday; he could always cancel with the promoter. Somehow, watching Taskmaster felt much more important right now.

 

****

**OLLIE**

Josh and James were both busy the next Wednesday; and the thought of being unable to hear Josh’s voice in the evening was making James sad. It wasn’t like they only talked on Wednesdays—if anything, he couldn’t remember the last time they _didn’t_ communicate once in the whole day—but James couldn’t explain why he couldn’t seem to sit still when he was watching the next episode, waiting with decreasing patience for his mobile to ring and hear what gripe Josh had about his performance.

“Well, I’m at Old Rope tomorrow,” Josh said to him, over the phone during Sunday lunchtime. “If you’ve got tomorrow free as well, I’m sure Tiff won’t mind you coming along and doing ten minutes.”

“Let me check,” said James, and he put his phone down on the table. He made sure to put Josh on loudspeaker before he opened up the calendar. Sure enough, there was just a blank space for tomorrow. “Yeah, I could speak to Tiff. Even if she says there’s too many acts, I’ll still come down. I haven’t seen you perform in ages.” As he spoke, he quickly scrolled upwards, just to check the last sentence was true.

Josh chuckled and, in a slightly lower tone, said, “You just want an excuse to criticise me back, don’t you?” Hold on, why did it sound like Josh was flirting with him?

Still, James laughed. “Maybe,” he said.

“You can try, but it’s going to be so good that you can’t say a single bad thing to me.”

“In that case, I’ll just boo you like we used to.”

The conversation with Tiff went better than James expected; and he turned up to Old Rope as the mystery guest MC. As he waited for the doors to open, he ended up sandwiched between Nish and Josh, and hunched over a phone screen that was far too small for three people to watch comfortably.

It did feel a bit odd watching ‘OLLIE’ with Josh in person, but then there was something even more satisfying about hearing Josh—and also Nish—laughing along to the show, and seeing their reactions on the spot.

_“Just open the box, you pussy.”_

James had to stick a finger in each ear the moment that line ended. To his left, he had Nish’s booming, cackling laugh; and Josh’s shriller laugh to his right wasn’t exactly any easier on his hearing. He chose to look at Josh, who was wiping tears away from his eyes; and he jumped when he felt Nish rest his head and arms on his shoulders.

“What the hell, James?” said Josh. “Where the hell did _that_ come from?”

“I _still_ don’t know,” he said, almost in-sync with himself on the screen.

“You are a brave, brave man, Acaster,” said Nish. He gripped James’ shoulders even harder. “But it’s fucking amazing being pulled over like that, isn’t it?”

“You got told off by Greg as well?” said Josh.

Nish looked surprised. “You don’t know? You haven’t seen the highlight of my career?”

“He doesn’t usually watch the show,” said James.

“Oooooh, so what made you watch this series?”

Josh responded by shushing Nish; and they got through another ten minutes before the doors opened.

The gig finished just before half past eleven, and Nish was the first to leave. Under usual circumstances, James would have left with him too, but he was reluctant to draw the evening to a close just yet. As the audience filed out, he decided to buy another drink for himself and Josh, and they settled at the back of the room to watch the rest of the episode.

Even though James couldn’t remember half the episode, he opted to watch his companion instead. Josh barely spoke, but he did a great deal of laughing; and James swore he made an odd muted groan at the end of his butchered transformation in the lift. Josh caught his eye and quickly looked away again, but James barely paid attention. The idea of watching the episodes alone in his flat was no longer bearable.

He knew he had to say something to Josh, but he kept delaying until the episode ended. Even then, he had to finish the dregs of his pint before he felt confident enough. He didn’t mean to slam his glass down on the table, but at least it caught Josh’s attention.

“Hey, listen, do you want to come round to mine next week?” he said. He gripped his glass tight. “And watch the next episode with me? You know, if you’re free?”

“Absolutely,” said Josh, and he grinned.

James found himself unable to take his eyes off Josh’s stupidly wide grin, or how it puffed up his cheeks, or his long, deep crow’s feet. Somehow, he managed to turn away at last as they were reminded the pub was closing; and as he led the way out, all he could think was: _Oh. Oh._

 

****

**Lotta Soup**

_“—because I asked for fireworks, and I didn’t get them; and secondly, that’s one of the blokes I had dancing for me. He’s dancing_ better _for him.”_

_“Why wasn’t Kerry allowed fireworks?”_

_“Couple of things. She made the decision to want fireworks near the end of the hour, when there was no time. He was immediately, ‘I want fireworks’. Also, his was done on November the second.”_

James jumped when Josh smacked him hard on his forearm; and for a second, he was too surprised to retort.

“Ow—” he said as he rubbed his arm. He turned to Josh, who was looking as grumpy as Kerry. “What was that for?”

“ _I_ was free on November the second,” said Josh. “Why didn’t you ask _me_ to deliver the task?”

“I wanted someone with a beard—”

“Oh yeah, that’s what Richard Osman’s famous for.”

“—and when I couldn’t get anyone, I went for the first person in my contacts.”

“In what alphabet does ‘r’ come before ‘j’?”

“…My one?” said James, amazed that his voice could go up so many octaves in so few syllables. Josh looked away as he failed to suppress his giggles. “Ah, I knew you couldn’t stay mad at me.”

It took Josh a few seconds to make eye contact again, and James found himself pulled in by the glint of mischief in his eyes. With a straight face, Josh said, “Only cause you make it hard.”

 _“—it says ‘eff you James Acaster’.”_ James started just as he remembered the show was still running. He turned to the screen to see Alex holding up Phil’s glittery message to the camera.

“Who did you upset?” said Josh. James turned to him, but he was focused on the screen again.

“No one. You’ll see,” said James. The idea of scribbling “fuck you Phil Wang” onto an envelope and posting it through Phil’s letter box was very tempting in that moment—or, even better, he would wait until he could see Phil’s living room window was open, and then he would throw it in and give him both middle fingers while he disappeared out of view.

Oh, who was he kidding? It was his own fault he didn't mute the TV.

 

****

**A Coquettish Fascinator**

James went over to Josh’s flat the next Wednesday; and as he waited for Taskmaster to start, he realised that he was actually feeling a little nervous. Perhaps it didn’t help that Josh had just taken a call where he kept thanking an Alex for his help in something; he never specified which one, and James wasn’t going to ask. His initial instinct had been Alex Horne, but they both knew a few other Alexes also working in comedy, and besides, Josh had friends outside of the industry. He could know someone else called Alex.

The title sequence came on, and for a second, James was confused why the clips were different. Then he remembered that he was watching the newest series and not series one, which he’d binge-watched again in one sitting on two different nights, over the past week. Afterwards, he had tried to watch series two, but he’d switched off after the first episode in favour of Champion of Champions. The thing was, he’d laughed harder at series two because he’d forgotten most of it, whereas he knew where the next laugh would be coming from in Wiley Giraffe Blower—and yet he found himself more entertained by the series he was more familiar with.

_“—and it’s a neat one this week. We’ve asked them to bring in their best key.”_

Alex’s voice dragged James back to reality. He sat up until he was on the edge of his seat; if he continued to stay slumped, it was only going to set his mind adrift again.

 _“I bought in the key to my heart,”_ he watched himself say.

“That’s not a proper prize,” said Josh the moment the ice cream appeared on screen.

James cocked his head. “Why not?”

“Anyone who knows you know you adore ice cream.”

“Exactly—and that’s why it’s the best key. It’s the key to my heart.” James patted his chest twice.

“It’s not useful for many people.”

“Yeah—” James stopped. Did the ‘many people’ part include Josh or not? Then, aware that a silence was growing, he waved his hands at the TV. “Oh come on, Jess made a lime key pie. _That’s_ not a proper key to anything, is it?”

Josh just nodded along and, perhaps wisely, turned back to the TV again.

 

****

**The Perfect Stuff**

James thought the few months in-between the studio record and the transmission would have been long enough for him to quell any residual rage at Rhod; but when he watched Rhod shut the garage door again, he threw his hands up in the air in-sync with himself. At that moment, Josh turned to him.

“James?” he said.

James sighed, and sunk deeper into the sofa. He tilted his head back—because right now, Josh’s patchy ceiling was much more fascinating than the mess of an extension he’d made—and he crossed his arms as he heard himself wishing he’d been on the girls’ team. He started to take in deeper breaths, and the muscles in his arms tensed up.

_“We’d done tasks all day together by that point, that was our final one—and I don’t know how you’ve been friends with him for so long.”_

James couldn’t hear the rest of his complaint over how hard Josh laughed, non-stop. He still refused to look at the screen, even though there was a growing dull pain in the back of his neck; but his rage slowly faded away the more he listened to Josh’s giddiness at his outburst. He was almost tranquil again when Josh patted him on the shoulder—but then, why was he still breathing in so deeply?

The first time he looked away from the ceiling was when he felt Josh get up. The TV was still running. As James sat up straight, he watched Josh disappear into the kitchen.

“Do you want me to pause it?” he shouted.

“No,” Josh answered. “Stay where you are.”

James could hear Josh opening and shutting doors and drawers, and he ran the tap twice. The introduction for the next task was already playing, and James was tempted to get up when Josh returned. He held a spoon and a tub of ice cream—mint chocolate in his left, strawberry in his right—in each hand.

“I had a feeling you might need this,” said Josh, smiling, and he held out the chocolate ice cream.

James just laughed as he took the ice cream. He looked down at the lid for a moment; was this how girls felt about receiving flowers from guys?

“Thanks,” he said, without looking up. His face felt hot, and he immediately ripped the lid and film off, and dug into the ice cream to cool down.

James still had half a tub left when the episode ended. He could have told Josh to put it back in the freezer for next week, or keep it and consume the rest on the way back home; but he was reluctant to even get up from the sofa. He looked over into Josh’s tub, and saw that he was also halfway through.

“Are you doing anything tomorrow morning?” said James. Josh shook his head. “Do you want to watch the next episode now?”

Josh seemed surprised at the suggestion, but his eyes lit up. “Yeah, I’d love to. Let me get my laptop.”

It took ten minutes for Josh to set everything up. For some reason, it seemed awkward just sitting there watching Josh’s laptop load; James felt he had to keep eating ice cream to stay busy.

“You’re nearly finished,” said Josh when he took his seat again, and the title sequence for the next episode was playing.

James shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.” He watched the caption ‘Mother Honks Her Horn’ appear on the screen. “I like this episode. It’s a great one.” At least Rhod was bearable in this one.

“They’ve all been great. Tell you what, this is the best comedy show I’ve watched in ages.”

The grotto task was first, and it turned out that putting his pants on a stick wasn’t as big a surprise as James thought. Josh guessed it from the moment he’d asked to turn off the cameras, but he still laughed at the reveal like he hadn’t seen it coming. He laughed too at Kerry and Phil's attempts; and James stayed quiet as he tried to scoop a large piece out of the ice cream he had left.

 _“Kerry’s was the only one I didn’t know what was going on, so I was genuinely surprised when her bra came up,”_ he heard Alex say.

_“Why?”_

_“Well, she went into the woods, hid in a bush, and took her bra off and then came back, whereas the other two—”_

_“They did it on camera. I’m quite glad I didn’t do it on camera.”_

James managed to dislodge some ice cream by jerking the spoon upwards, and he flinched when he thought he’d flung some stray ice cream at his face.

_“I didn’t expect Alex to have a live feed like a pervert.”_

_“There was a big hole in the roof.”_

“Oh that’s not fair,” said Josh, just as James spooned more ice cream into his mouth.

“What isn’t fair?” said James.

“You took your pants off and Alex could see what you were doing, so he saw your arse—”

James choked in response; and while he was glad that ice cream was just frozen liquid, he still had to lean over the side of the sofa to cough and clear his throat. Josh patted the back of his neck until he sat up straight again.

“I didn’t—I don’t take my pants off by sticking my arse in the air,” he said. He narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean, that’s not fair?”

“Nothing.” Josh looked down, and dug his spoon into his tub. “It was a slip of the tongue.”

“It wasn’t.”

“Yes it was.”

James shuffled closer to Josh. “Are you blushing?”

“No,” said Josh, and he scooped out ice cream that was as pink as his face.

James watched him eat, but his mind was distracted. If he hadn’t just imagined their conversation and Josh was implying what he thought he was implying, then everything seemed to fall in place. He still had to be sure though, to clear the last few little doubts in his mind.

He put his tub and spoon down by his feet. As he sat up again, he said, “Josh?”

Josh was pulling his spoon out of his mouth when he looked at James.

James took a deep breath. “I’m not _really_ a superfan of Taskmaster. Like—I—I’ve seen all the series, yeah, but I don’t—I haven’t really watched them back. I became obsessed with the show because—well, because I knew you were—you’d done the first series. And the champions one. That one as well.”

Josh just sat closer to him.

“And I can’t stop watching it,” James continued. “It’s ridiculous, I know. I’ve got so many things to catch up on but I’m not bothered, I’m not interested. I—I just—I’d rather watch you count all those beans and spaghetti hoops and rice and get picked on by Greg and—you looked so _tiny_ next to Greg, and—your football outfit—I—I think I—I’m—”

James had no idea how to finish his sentence. Instead, he leaned right in and kissed Josh.

He remembered too late that Josh had a mouth full of ice cream, when his own mouth tasted of strawberry. He pulled away first when his mouth felt numb, and his brain seemed to freeze. He couldn’t tell if it was from the ice cream or Josh; it was probably a mixture of both.

Now it was Josh’s turn to forget how to speak. He pointed at James’ top lip—which did feel colder than before—and made a vague wiping gesture, but James was too reluctant to take his hands off Josh so he pulled him into another kiss.

Josh still tasted of strawberry—or maybe James’ taste buds were broken. If he could only taste strawberry for the rest of his life, he didn’t exactly mind. Before he could decide, Josh gently broke the kiss. His eyes were sparkling with mischief, and James just grinned along with him.

“James,” he said. “I’m not going to lie to you. I thought I’d get to see what was underneath your suit in the lift.”

James frowned. “It was just a yellow shirt.”

“Oh, I know.” Josh pushed James backwards. The moment he completely landed on his back, Josh straddled his hips and leaned in to say into his ear, “I wasn’t talking about that.”

“Really?” was all James could think to say. Before he could string something more coherent together, Josh began to plant kisses on the side of his neck, and his brain froze once again.


End file.
